


the winter is cold, but your smile is warm and that’s all that matters

by VITRI0L



Category: DreamSMP, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: /roleplay, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, DadSchlatt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Gen, Pain, Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, no beta we die like ghostbur, phil’s a good friend, schlatt is trying his best :(, this au makes me suffer and i love it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VITRI0L/pseuds/VITRI0L
Summary: schlatt is struggling and he just wants tubbo to have a good life.//lowercase intended\\
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 331





	the winter is cold, but your smile is warm and that’s all that matters

**Author's Note:**

> sad, sadness, i’m so sad :(

the wind is cold, biting harshly at any exposed skin with the promise of snow on its tongue. schlatt shivers involuntarily, wanting to retreat further into his oversized gray hoodie.

“dad, are you ok,” a small voice asks, full of concern.

the man looks down with a gently smile. tubbo frowns up at him, big brown eyes full of concern. his little gloved hand holds schlatt’s exposed hand tighter, lower lip stuck out with a pout.

schlatt laughs loudly, wiggling his son’s arm playfully as the walk down unusual quiet store fronts of new york city. tubbo still looks concerned, but the boy smiles brightly anyways.

schlatt feels a twinge in his heart whenever he looks at his son.

“hey, don’t worry about me, kid,” he tells tubbo brightly, “your dad’s a big man. he can handle a little wind.”

“ok...” tubbo tells him, rather hesitantly.

toby, or tubbo, a nickname that the kid’s best friend tommy had coined, was quite observant for a five year old. he was oddly selfless, many kids his age are self centered and rely on self preservation. not toby. the kid tries to read his dad like a book, always putting schlatt before himself. 

schlatt frowns lightly at the thought.

tubbo shouldn’t have to be so selfless, he’s too young. even when the brunet boy plays with tommy, he is always receptive to the wishes of the the boisterous blond and never does anything without his best friend. schlatt blames himself and all his shortcomings as a parent.

“dad, look!” his son exclaims, pulling the goat hybrid from his thoughts.

tubbo lets go of his hand and schlatt lets him. the kid bounds over to a store window, pressing his gloves and face into the once clean glass. schlatt smiles at his son’s antics, but there is a little seed of worry planted in his stomach. 

walking over to the window, he follows tubbo’s gaze upward. up on a self there sits a big bee plush toy. it is quite cute, the man will admit.

“is the bee toy what you’re talking about?” he asks casually.

“yeah! can we get it, dad?” tubbo asks excitedly. 

schlatt bites the inside of his cheek harshly. christmas was just a week away, but rent was due in two days. the man barely had enough in the bank to pay for rent this month and it was going to wipe out their savings for things like groceries for a few days. he doesn’t have the money for a toy right now.

he feels guilty.

_fuck companies, man. thirty dollars for a fucking plush, do they think money grows on trees?_

“ahh, i’m sorry, tubbo. i don’t have the money for that right now,” schlatt says smoothly, ignoring the way the guilt tries to suffocate him.

tubbo’s bright eyes fall, sadness hidden in those brown depths. any other kid would whine and throw a tantrum until they go their way. the boy just backed up with a sad smile, raising his arm so that schlatt would take his hand once more.

schlatt did.

though, tubbo still pouted and gave his dad the best puppy eyes he could manage as they made their way home.

“that’s not gonna work on me, kid,” schlatt teases lightly. “maybe santa’ll get ya the toy for christmas.”

he ignores the pang in his heart when tubbo lights up at the idea.

his heart burns and guilt grips him icily as he walks hand in hand with his son. his sweet, precious son, who deserves so much more than a father who was a college dropout with two part time jobs and a recovering (struggling) alcoholic whose wife had left the both of them because of the man’s faults.

schlatt blinks back the tears welling in his eyes. he hates himself so deeply that the feeling entangles into his soul. he’s a shit parent and a horrible person. toby deserves much better.

the man with the curly brown hair and mutton chops in a yankees cap, hoodie, worn jeans and old timberlands looks down at the smiling young boy in the oversized winter jacket (it has to fit for a few more years) with little black gloves and rosy cheeks and feels thorns pierce his weary heart.

 _it would have been better for toby if you’d given him up,_ that dark voice tells schlatt. _he’s better off without you, after all._

he shakes the thought away.

 _that’s not true,_ he reminds himself lightly.

schlatt had tried to give up his son. it was stormy night and the man had been drinking. heavily. toby had just turned two and it had been only six months since his mother left. only twenty, the man had often indulged his pain in a bottle of liquor, drinking until he blacked out.

this particular night, schlatt had taken his son and they had driven outside of the busy city. the boy could most definitely smell the alcohol on his father. there had also been a box with a note.

_i can’t provide for him. he’s my son, he deserves a stable home with good parents. please, adopt him and cherish him. toby deserves the world. his birthday is the twenty third of december and his just turned two. he’s a good kid, sweet and the best thing that could every happen to you. i’m too young and too irresponsible. he deserves much better._  
_thank you.  
don’t let him read this, i want him to forget me. it’s better that way._

he couldn’t go through with it. he had haphazardly pulled the car over and broke down. toby, confused but saddened by his father’s pain, had crawled out of the confines of the seatbelt and into his dad’s lap. the little boy pressed himself into schlatt’s chest, small arms wrapping around his ribs.

the toddler had cried into schlatt’s shirt because his dad was crying. 

drunk and distraught, schlatt thought that there was no better feeling than the way his son held him that night.

he’d made a vow that night. to provide for toby the best he could and always be by his son’s side.

 _i promised,_ schlatt reminds himself as the two make their way home in the cold wind.

•••

schlatt is exhausted when he comes home later one night from his evening job. he works in retail even though he hates people and his manager had kept him late since someone had called out. 

the man fumbles for his keys, his hand on the door knob to the apartment. to his surprise, however, he finds that the handle turns easily.

he creeps into the entrance hallway. to the right, light spills out of the living room. he kicks off his shoes and quietly but swiftly rounds the corner into the living room.

phil sits on the tan couch that’s pushed up under the window. his usual white and greened stripped hat sits on the dark (and dirty) coffee table. his blond hairs falls in the way of his blue eyes and he was reading something on his phone.

“why are you here?” schlatt asks rather rudely, crossing his arms.

phil’s warm eyes flick up to the other man, and he tucks his phone into the pocket of his black coat. the man gives schlatt as smile, but the brunet just scowls.

“good to see you, schlatt,” phil says kindly, getting up from the couch.

schlatt fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“just answer my question,” he states.

phil is tommy’s father, though he also has two other boys. wilbur and techno are twins and the family lives in a house just outside of the city. that doesn’t stop phil from butting into schlatt’s and tubbo’s life and the hybrid is rather sick of it. ever since tubbo had become friends with tommy when on his first day of school (which had been just last year, wow), phil had been always been around schlatt just because the hybrid had opened up one night. 

to be fair, he _had_ been kinda drunk that night. 

“well, tubbo called our home phone saying that you hadn’t come home for dinner,” phil tells him plainly. “he was worried and i offered to stay until you came back.”

schlatt frowns and irritation eats at him.

“it’s 10 pm,” he points out.

“schlatt, i wasn’t going to leave a five year old alone in an apartment,” phil says incredulously.

guilt grips the brunet at the pseudo accusation. it’s not like he had a choice, he had to work or there would be now way he could afford to keep tubbo-

the guilt quickly smolders into angry as he glared dangerously at phil.

“listen, phil, i’ve had enough with your meddling ok? i’m glad that tommy is such a good friend to toby, but that doesn’t give you the right to come in here and be his dad,” schlatt says a little too loudly for the dead of night.

worry sparkles in phil’s eyes as he takes a step nearer to the frustrated man. he looks so fatherly, the caring and the kindness in him nearly making schlatt flinch.

“mate, this isn’t a shitty competition,” phil says through light laughter. “i didn’t mean for it to come across that way.”

some of schlatt’s hostility melts, replaced with exhaustion.

“i’m... sorry too,” he says carefully.

phil nods with a smile, fishing something out of his pocket. he walks up to the younger man and places a key into his outstretched hand. 

“tubbo gave it to me to hold onto,” he tells the brunet.

“smart bastard,” schlatt mumbles with a grin.

phil laughs good-naturally, placing a hand on schlatt’s shoulder.

“i want you to take this,” he says.

there is a white envelope placed in his calloused hand. schlatt frowns and glances down at it. the paper burns his skin and guilt builds in him.

“how much?” he all but whispers.

“one hundred,” phil says casually.

schlatt flinches visible, recoiling.

“no, i can’t take it,” he says, distress clawing at his throat, “i could never pay you back. take it back.”

phil shakes his head, taking his hands and wrapping schlatt’s still fingers around the paper.

“you can and you will take it,” he says calmly, staring into schlatt’s soul, “and if you can’t take it for yourself, then take it for toby.”

his fingers grasp the paper a little harsher at those words.

“besides, i don’t expect or want you to pay me back,” phil smiles.

schlatt frowns.

“this isn’t a handout or anything, mate. this is just for christmas. take it and i won’t ever offer money again.”

the brunet thinks he should be insulted. but, he just feels... happy? he doesn’t know, he’s never been good with emotions.

“and one more thing, yeah?” phil continues, “pour out the bottle in the fridge.”

_shit_

schlatt’s gaze snaps to phil’s, disbelief, anger and pain hidden in them. his jaw drops and he desperately wants to say something, but phil just pats him one the shoulder. the blond grabs his hat and walks past a stunned schlatt towards the exit.

“see you when tommy demands to see tubbo again,” phil jokes, one hand on the handle.

“clingy,” schlatt says as the man leaves.

laughter rings through the hall, clear and joyous. schlatt smiles wobbly and the laughter is cut off the the shutting of the apartments door.

_goddamned phil._

the beer in the fridge immediately goes down the sink.

•••

“dad, wake up!” an excited voice calls.

schlatt grumbles loudly. he opens his eyes, but there isn’t much difference between the back of his eyelids and the dark morning except he can see his son’s bright eyes.

it’s extremely early. with a quick glance to the alarm clock on his nightstand, he ascertains that it’s merely 4:30.

his body aches and his eyes burn with exhaustion, but schlatt sits up anyways. because when he looks down at the boy with a shining expression, he can’t feel the pain that badly anymore. 

tubbo grins widely as schlatt pushes himself up. the young boy reaches up and schlatt takes his hand gently. 

the young hybrid practically drags his dad down the hall and into the living room. there is a poorly wrapped present under their charlie brown plastic tree. schlatt yawns and turns on the electric fireplace (the only time that he does so) and the broken christmas lights. tubbo sits on the hardwood, patiently watching schlatt and waiting for him to finish.

“alrighty, kid, go on. see what santa got ya,” schlatt says cheerily. 

“ok!” tubbo exclaims.

he quickly takes the present, tearing off the red paper with poorly stifled excitement. schlatt can feel worry an disappointment creeping into his heart, the ever present feeling of being a failure nagging him. he knows it’s not much, (not enough, his mind supplies), but the hybrid just hopes it’s ok.

toby’s laughter is warm and bright, like a sunny evening. it’s clear, ringing through the dingy apartment like the summer breeze. the little boy scrambles to his feet and looks up at his dad.

“santa listened!” he exclaimed loudly.

held preciously in the boy’s hands is that bee plushie that is nearly half of the kid’s size. there are tears of elation that water in chocolate eyes and schlatt almost feels proud of himself.

almost.

chuckling lightly, schlatt rustles his son’s thick locks, careful to not hit the tiny horns that poke up. if he could, the man was sure that toby would purr. 

“yeah, he always does,” schlatt tells him, hand dropping back to his side, “i’m glad you like it. you hungry?”

tubbo shakes his head, smile softly.

“no. you can go back to sleep, daddy.”

a wobbly smile crosses schlatt’s lips.

“i’ll only be asleep for a few hours. wake me if you need anything,” he tells tubbo genuinely.

the boy nods emphatically.

“i love you, dad,” his son calls as schlatt sleepily stumbles out of the living room.

“i know,” he calls back, cockily, causing tubbo to giggle.

there is an white envelope under the mattress of his bed. it contains just shy of seventy dollars. schlatt has promised not to touch, unless for emergencies. 

he wants to keep that money for tubbo.

schlatt falls back into his bed in his cold room with a stiff mattress. the words go unspoken.

_i love you too, toby._

**Author's Note:**

> cry with me in the comments
> 
> i hope you’re well <3
> 
> have a good day!


End file.
